


The Assignment

by explicitomlinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Harry, Criminal Harry, Criminal Liam, Criminal Niall, Detective Louis, I'm RAMBLING, M/M, Original Characters - Freeform, Top Louis, and making fake IDs, and other irrelevant people, and some random photographer friend of Niall's, barely any original characters, but harry is no longer harry he's austin baudelaire, but then harry is a model, harry's partner in crime, he likes hacking stuff, his job is his life, i think that's all, just Louis' colleagues, louis will probably top so, there is also a six year age gap between larry, there might be smut, there will be smut, who likes him a bit too much, who's also harry's partner, zayn is louis' boss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-05-09 15:55:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5546171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/explicitomlinson/pseuds/explicitomlinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Austin Baudelaire?" Harry asked, squinting at the screen. "What the fuck is an Austin Baudelaire?"</p><p>"You, my friend," Niall grinned widely. "From this day forward, you are Austin Baudelaire..."</p><p>♢</p><p>As of the first of February, 2014, Harry Styles, criminal mastermind, no longer existed. In his place, Austin Baudelaire, 22 year old aspiring model, was born. </p><p>Louis Tomlinson, one of Britain's best detectives, had been working on the case of the "Lords of London" for almost two years; when it came time for an arrest, he was excited, he was hungry for justice and he had never been more ready to put two criminals behind bars. His only problem? Where he had Liam Payne at his mercy, Harry Styles had disappeared. </p><p>So what happens when, after two years of Harry's disappearance, he's finally found again?</p><p>(story idea by desloveshazza)<br/>(also posted on wattpad, same username as here x)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1: Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [choplouis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/choplouis/gifts).



> Thank you for desloveshazza for the story idea ! this story will also be posted on Wattpad :)  
> feedback is hella welcome !! enjoy x  
> 

_HARRY_

_2008_

The first time Harry had ever stolen something was an accident. He was sixteen years old, barely considered a man, and had never committed a bad deed in his life; he was a grade A student, he played baseball on the weekends and his idea of a fun night was eating pizza and reading. He was loved by everyone, wooing them with his charming smile and bright eyes; he was never the kind of boy you would expect to commit a crime. The first crime he had ever committed was on a Saturday. He and Liam, his best friend at the time, were on the bus, on the way to the store. An old man, Harry guessed around sixty-five at the time, had dropped his wallet as he made his way to the front of the bus. Being the boy that he was at the time, Harry picked it up with the intent to give it to the man; what he didn't expect was the man to grunt and shove at him when he tapped on his shoulder in order to get his attention, and to get off the bus without another thought.

Slipping the wallet in his pocket, Harry promised himself he would find a way to get the wallet to the owner somehow. Liam convinced Harry that the man was a dick and didn't deserve his wallet back for the way he treated Harry. Liam, even at a young age, was manipulative – he could get anything he wanted, whenever he wanted – and Harry was impressionable; so they bought lunch and a new PS2 game with the money. The guilt hadn't left Harry for weeks, until Liam told him to stop moping; his mother had mailed it to the original owner.

After the first month of stealing things with Liam, it had gotten easier – the guilt subsided quickly, until there was never any guilt at all. Eventually, he began to steal regularly, and the things he stole became riskier. Over time, with stealing came lying, manipulating the people he loved the most. He and Liam became a team, moving on to bigger, more important things. Harry told his Mum he had a job and that's why he could afford all of the new clothing and PS2 games, and, eventually, the car.

Once he left home, it became his career. He and Liam began formulating actual plans, choosing _targets_ , as if they were villains in an action film. They started earning more money, and a name for themselves. They built a business off of stealing _for_ other people and taking some of the profit. They were known in the criminal world: if you wanted something someone else had, no matter how big or small, Harry and Liam were the men to call. As long as you were willing to pay a fee, they were willing to get what you wanted.

They moved from a two bedroom flat to a two bedroom _house_ , before moving into a four bedroom house with a pool and two garages. By the age of twenty-one, Harry and Liam both had their own five-bedroom homes (completed with a pool and bar), a large collection of cars and a heavy amount of money to their name. They were living lives of luxury, full of fast cars, champagne and an endless line of men and women eager to please them; it could not get better for them – by the age of twenty-one, they believed they led the perfect lives.

By the age of twenty-one, Harry had fucked his life up. Not only did he have a heavy amount of dirty cash to his name, he had a massive house and a large collection of expensive cars bought from that cash that was enough to be able to put him behind bars for twenty-five to life, just as it had Liam.

By the age of twenty-one, Harry was officially on the run. By his twenty-second birthday, Harry Styles no longer existed. On the first of February, 2014, Austin Baudelaire was born.

_2013_

Harry had just finished a job. He felt light on his feet, happy as he skipped along the street, his backpack heavy with money and jewels, a promising picture. He scuffed his sneaker along the ground as he danced along to the music coming through his earphones, singing along as he did. His father had loved The Eagles, something he had passed onto Harry, something that had never left him. It didn't matter how much Harry had changed over the five years since he first began his new way of life, there were little things that had always stayed the same and always would.

He still had the some chocolate curls and the same charming smile, which helped him even more now than it did in the past. He was still awkward and lanky, although Liam had been trying to bulk him up a bit. He still had the same taste in music, and although he had riches beyond anything he had ever imagined at his age, he still appreciated the little things in life.

It was a sunny day, although the cold wind still nipped at him, pulling his beanie out of his pocket and over his hair as he neared his home. His jacket was light, perfect for this weather; he was happy he didn't listen to Liam when he said it was an unnecessary steal – it was now a staple in his wardrobe. He flinched as he heard sirens, two police cars speeding past him. He stilled as they turned right, before breaking into a jog, ripping his earphones out and looking around the corner. He held tightly onto the brick wall of the apartment on the corner, providing a nice space for Harry to watch from afar.

His stomach dropped as he realised they were stopped outside of his apartment block. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he heard men yelling and the sound of a gun shot. By this point he was sweating, his breathing irregular. He stepped out and watched as they pulled a struggling form out of the front door, the man resisting as much as could, going as far as dragging his feet along the ground. Harry's mouth went dry as he saw the unmistakable tattoo; the one Liam had gotten last year to signify their journey together. "Four arrows for the four years we haven't stopped going up," Liam had told him, smiling widely.

His mouth went slack as Liam struggled, twisting his body and kicking at the officers that were leading him to the car. Liam turned his way, Harry's eyes widening as they made eye contact. "You fucking prick!" He yelled, face bright red, flushed with anger and Harry's heart sped up, stepping back behind the building. "What did you do?" He screamed and Harry could hear his heart beating, the blood rushing behind his ears. He felt pinpricks in his hands, the one thing that only happened when Harry was terrified.

His body wouldn't co-operate with him, his brain telling him to run, his body slack with shock. It wasn't until Liam's screams were cut off and the sirens started wailing again did Harry act. He ran, faster than he ever had in his life, as far away as he could. Once he reached a more populated area, he slowed down. Hailing a taxi, he went over his options.

He had enough money to last him at least a month in the backpack and if he managed to sell the jewels, he would last two. He could go to the safe-house, but he doesn't know if Liam had told the police anything about it. Knowing Liam, he would have – unless the police haven't questioned him yet? It's a fifteen minute drive to the station and with how unco-operative Liam is, it will take them a while to actually begin their questioning. Telling the driver his destination quickly and handing him a random amount of cash, Harry tried to slow his breathing and heart rate. He felt tears prickling at the back of his eyes, but he refused to let any escape – he was stronger than that. He was Harry fucking Styles, and he was not going to let this break him.

They reached the safe-house in ten minutes, Harry jumping out of the car and running up the stairs, sliding the key out from behind the faulty doorbell and slamming the front door to the shabby apartment open. It was a one-bedroom apartment, something the boys had only bought in case of dire emergencies – they could always share the bed, or the sofa doubled as bed, too. They wouldn't need to do that now, since Liam was gone. Knowing his record and the things that could be pinned on them, Harry knew he wasn't coming back.

Gathering backpacks of money, clothes and some food and water, Harry left as quickly as he could, running out of time. They had probably started questioning him by now, if he was being co-operative. Harry knew Liam, and knew that Liam was a sucker for revenge, and wouldn't stop until he had succeeded.

  

> _2014_
> 
>  

This is the third time Harry had been on the run from the police, the fifth house he has had to leave behind, the eighth car he had to abandon and the nineteenth phone he had to throw into a river or bush somewhere. He always had a phone that couldn't be traced on him and pulled it out, dialling the number he had been avoiding for months.

"Hello?" He picked up on the second ring and Harry let out a sigh of relief as he ran, going all of the back ways he knew and jumping over fences, going through people's backyards in the hopes that it would throw the police off.

"Niall, thank God," Harry almost sobbed, stopping at a small park, dropping his backpack and rummaging through it. "I need your help."

"Finally given up, huh?" Niall sounded smug and although Harry wanted to hug him, he had never wanted to punch him more. "I'm at the second house, how far away are you?"

Harry put Niall on speaker and tugged his shirt off, looking at his surroundings, before replacing his t-shirt with a large jumper. "About fifteen minute walk." Harry answered, undoing the drawstring of his track pants and replacing them with jeans, keeping his Converse on.

"Get walking, then. I'll have everything set up for you," Niall said, hanging up abruptly and Harry let out a deep breath before putting the phone on the ground and stomping on it repeatedly until it broke. He picked it up and dropped random bits as he walked, sometimes throwing it into a random's backyard. It was important that he always scattered the evidence, that's something Liam had taught him years ago, especially since sometimes those phones aren't always untraceable.

He got to Niall's house earlier than expected, his adrenaline pumping at the idea of getting caught. After a year on the run, he wouldn't do it to himself. He had gotten this far and he was not going to fall at the last hurdle; he certainly wouldn't allow himself to go to the same gaol as Liam – he would without a doubt kill Harry.

He knocked on the door quickly, feeling exposed atop the steps of the small townhouse and wanting to get inside quickly. Niall opened the door with a lazy smile. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Har-"

"I don't have time for this," Harry pushed past Niall and closed the door, looking out the window just in case someone had seen him.

"You look more suspicious now than if you had've come inside like a normal person, you twat," Niall rubbed his arm where Harry had elbowed him on his way in, a small frown on his face. You would never expect someone like Niall to be in the business, but then again, Harry doesn't look like he would be either.

"I'm sorry, I'm nervous." Harry shook his head, looking around the small house. It was simply decorated, but Harry wasn't surprised. This was just one of Niall's many houses, one which he mainly used for business.

"That's okay. Do you want some tea? Beer? Coke?" Niall asked, making his way into the kitchen. Harry followed with a sigh, accepting a bottle of Coke. "Everything's upstairs, but first you have to shower and not look so grubby. I have clothes up there that I think will fit your new alias."

"Wait, you've already chosen for me?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Mate, I've been looking forward to this day for months, of course I've already chosen something. You just need to look a bit better," Niall said and Harry fought the urge to snort. "Towel and underwear are in the bathroom, come upstairs when you're ready."

Harry sighed as Niall made his way up the stairs, leaving Harry to finish off his drink before making his way to the bathroom. It was decorated simply, much like the rest of the house. There was already a towel and pair of underwear resting on the closed toilet lid. Harry took his hair out of its bun, shaking it out as he slipped his sneakers off. He noticed there was a shampoo/conditioner combo on the only shelf in the shower, along with the bodywash and loofa, so he washed his hair, too. He dried his hair after he had put the underwear on, walking up the stairs in search of Niall.

He found him in the bedroom, humming to himself. There were three laptops around him, along with some other machine Harry had never seen in his life. There was a large camera set up in the corner of the room, in front of the only blank wall in the room. The other walls were covered with random pieces of paper, each having a little sketch on them; under them, the walls were bright orange.

"Nice walls?" Harry frowned and Niall laughed, patting the place next to him on the bed.

"Thanks. I see you've washed your hair, good," Niall nodded as Harry sat down, pulling up different windows on the laptops and watching for Harry's reaction.

"I'm confused," Harry confessed and Niall sighed.

"Here we have the things you need for your new identity," Niall pointed at the first laptop, where the templates for a licence, passport and birth certificate were. "Then, this is your back-story of sorts," Niall pointed to the next laptop. "Next, is for your apartment – it's more of a townhouse really – and car."

"That's a lot," Harry's eyes were wide, regarding Niall thoughtfully. "Why do you do this?"

"It's not like you're not going to pay me back. I give you a year to pay me for the car and apartment, plus an extra two thousand pounds for my troubles. Don't worry," Niall added with a smirk at the look on Harry's face, "I've gotten you set up so you'll be able to pay me back in three months. You're going to be fine."

"Austin Baudelaire?" Harry asked, squinting at the screen. "What the fuck is an Austin Baudelaire?"

"You, my friend," Niall grinned widely. "From this day forward, you are Austin Baudelaire, born to George and Yvonne Baudelaire on the first of February, 1992 – I kept your birthday the same to make it easy for you. You are an aspiring model – I've already set you up with a photographer friend of mine to get headshots, and I know people in the business. You are an only child as, unfortunately, your mother suffered from ovarian cancer and could no longer have children. At the age of eighteen, you moved to the big city to pursue your dreams, alas it was not to be, so you were a waiter for a couple of years before your big break, blah, blah."

"What the fuck, Niall?" Harry gasped as he read everything Niall had written down. Everything was sorted out for him.

"I've been waiting for a long time, Styles. You need to put those legs of yours to use," Niall grinned happily, getting off the bed and gesturing for Harry to do the same. "Now, with a new identity comes a new look, especially if you're going to be in the fashion business. Luckily, a friend of mine could hit us up with the good shit."

"You seem to have a lot of convenient friends," Harry muttered and Niall threw a boot at him.

"Put these on," Niall shoved a bunch of clothes into his arms, walking over to the camera and setting it up. Harry eyed the jeans distastefully – they looked ridiculously small and had a lot of rips in them. He struggled to get them on and pretended he didn't hear Niall laughing softly behind him.

"What the fuck is this?" Harry held up the loose shirt, a pale yellow monstrosity with small brown dots on them.

"It is your new shirt, so put it on," Niall rolled his eyes, testing the camera out. Harry huffed, mumbling under his breath as he buttoned it up, sighing as he threw the blazer over the top.

"A hat? Really?" Harry pulled it over his damp hair, dreading having to start working on the boots. What kind of boots were they? Who even wore boots these days?

"Take it off while your hair is damp, you mongrel. We're going to have to teach you a thing or two, honestly," Niall rolled his eyes, taking the hat off Harry's head and straightening the blazer. "You're not the Virgin Mary," he said, unbuttoning a couple of Harry's buttons.

"I'm not a two-cent hooker, either," Harry muttered, but didn't move to change it. Apparently Niall knows what he's doing and he was in a desperate situation. Niall helped him with the boots, zipping them up so Harry wouldn't have to attempt to bend over in the ridiculously tight pants. He curled Harry's hair around his fingers, until they looked soft and fell against the tops of his shoulders.

"You're going to have to grow your hair out, too," Niall regarded him thoughtfully. "You definitely look different than when you were first on the run, but longer hair definitely throws you off more. I approve."

"How do you know what I looked like when I started running?" Harry asked, looking at his new outfit in the mirror Niall has next to his wardrobe. Niall looked at him exasperatedly.

"Not only were you on the news, but you were well known amongst my people, still are. Word travels, I did some searching; I may have been too obsessed at one point but we'll never bring that up again. I have a friend in the force – they've been searching for a while, mate. I've read your files and I've seen their surveillance team in action." Niall shrugged nonchalantly, gesturing for Harry to move.

"Wait, if you have a friend in the force, why don't you turn me in?" he asked, moving in front of the camera at Niall's instruction.

"You're paying me, he's not," he shrugged again and gestured for Harry to smile. They took a few pictures before Niall was satisfied. Harry watched, awed, as Niall fixed up all of Harry's identification. "Now, you need to sign on this," he handed Harry a small device that reminded Harry of an electronic etch-a-sketch. "Not your real name you knob," Niall sighed, "your new name. We need a signature for your license, passport, and the registration papers for your car and the lease contract for your apartment."

Harry nodded, frowning as he tried to consider what kind of signature Austin Baudelaire would conduct. It had to be better than his signature now – which even Harry had to admit was just chicken scratch. He tried cursive, putting a dot after the A and letting the rest flow; the result was pretty impressive, if Harry did say so himself. Niall seemed to agree, humming softly as he transferred the signature to the computer. Harry stood in front of the mirror, trying to adjust the clothing as Niall did his thing at the computer. His hair was now dry enough that he could pull the hat over the top, positioning his curls in a way he hoped looked artistic and fashionable, or whatever look he was supposed to be going for.

Niall walked out of the room and Harry could hear the sound of a printer. Niall came back in a couple of minutes later with a thick manila folder, held together with a rubber band, his real initials written on the front in red permanent marker. "The address of your house is on the first piece of paper in there, the car is in the garage. The keys to the house are buried in the second pot plant on the stairs – the one with the spirals on it? – you'll see when you get there. Wash the keys, yeah? Don't be gross. The keys to the car are inside on the kitchen bench, and..." he trailed off, pulling open one of the many drawers in the room and pulling out a box. Handing Harry an iPhone (6, Niall would settle for nothing less), he took in another deep breath and started talking at the ridiculously fast pace he was talking at before. "You're on a plan, you get ten gigs a month, but you have wifi at your house, so you should be okay. My number's in there, along with my photographer friend, so you should be set for a while. It's up to you if you tell your family about your identity, although I'm pretty sure they don't talk to you anyway," Harry tried not to wince at that.

"Anything else?" Harry asked and Niall hummed in thought, tapping is fingers against the folder.

"I think that's it, I'll text or call if there's anything else, and make sure you call if you have any questions," Niall grinned as he handed the folder to Harry. "Now, you'd best be off, I have to meet my boyfriend soon."

Harry nodded, a thick feeling in his throat, not wanting this to be over. He was so nervous, scared even, of what the future held for him as Austin Baudelaire. He had no friends, he knew nobody in this part of town, hell, he knew nobody that had a clean record and a proper job. Although Niall had set up so many things for him, what would he do if it didn't work out?

"Oh, Harry?" Niall called out as Harry was about to open the front door of the small house. Harry had a feeling that would be the last time he would be called that name. "Happy Birthday, man."

"Thanks," Harry smiled forcefully, before opening the door and stepping out into his new life.

 

_LOUIS_

 

_2013_

 

With a sigh, Louis picked up his third glass of scotch on the rocks, taking a long sip before placing it back on the coaster in front of him. Running his hands through his once-gelled-back hair, getting the now-soft strands out of his face, he sighed. With his suit slightly wrinkled, a seemingly permanent frown between his brows and his slumped posture, Louis was the embodiment of the forlorn detective; his work had become his life. At the age of twenty-seven, Louis had no serious relationship, no house, not even a pet to call his own.

Running his finger along the rim of the glass in front of him, Louis hummed. His boss had been trying to get Louis to take a holiday, to take a break from work, but Louis couldn't do it. Not only because he refused to be the guy who holidayed by himself, looking desperately lonely, he refused to take time off work before the "Lords of London" case was buried. He had been invested since the beginning of last year, and he was not going to give up – not when they were so close.

His phone started ringing and Louis groaned, pulling it out of his coat pocket and answering it, not bothering to look at the caller ID. "Tomlinson," he stated as a greeting, downing the rest of his scotch.

"Tomlinson, we need you at the office, now," Zayn's voice filled the speakers and Louis tensed. His boss never used that tone unless he was serious about a situation. Butterflies settled in Louis' stomach and he began regretting the third glass of scotch. "Tomlinson, did you hear me?" Zayn barked and Louis lurched into action, getting off the stool and fishing his wallet out of his pocket.

"Yes, sir, of course. I'll be there as soon as I can," Louis answered and Zayn hung up after a rough "good". Louis tried to calm his breathing, calling a taxi. He had a car, but he preferred taking public transport to and from work, especially when he stopped by the bar. The taxi took five minutes to get to the bar and Louis hoped for the love of God Zayn wouldn't be mad at him. It was ten pm, he couldn't have expected Louis to be so readily available.

He chewed gum on his way to the office, hoping the smell of alcohol wasn't still on his breath – he didn't want to deal with any of the pitiful looks his co-workers sometimes threw his way. Throwing a few tenners at the cabbie, Louis made his way into the building quickly, everybody congregating in one of the main offices.

"Sorry I took so long," Louis apologised as he walked into the room, all eyes on him. For some reason, despite the five or six men and women standing, he was offered a seat, right next to Zayn. Louis gulped, his heart racing as he walked forward, his colleagues patting him on the back. "Is everything okay?" he asked softly, directing the question to Zayn, who had a small smile on his face.

"As most of the people in this room know, we've made a major breakthrough in the Lords of London case," Zayn said and Louis' heart skipped a beat. No one had told him about a breakthrough, when normally he was the first to know. He had been working on this case for almost a full two years now, whenever somebody had information they bought it to Louis – the whole office knew that.

"That's incredible, but why can't this wait until tomorrow?" Louis heart was hammering against his ribcage, his head swimming slightly. He definitely regretted that third glass of scotch.

"Because tomorrow we're making an arrest," Zayn smiled properly now, Louis' brain sluggish, taking a while to pick up on it, literally every set of eyes on the room were on him, waiting for his reaction.

"Tomorrow? What?" Louis stood up out of shock, looking around the room as if someone was going to jump out and tell him it was a joke.

"We found them, mate," Jim, one of his older colleagues, chuckled and put his hand on Louis' shoulder in a fatherly manner. "We're bringing Payne and Styles in tomorrow."

"No fucking way!" Louis grinned in delight, pulling Zayn in a hug, followed by whoever was around him, overcome with joy. People were congratulating him, slapping him on the back and ruffling his already messy hair. "When? How?" Louis asked once the initial excitement had died down.

"Thank you, everyone," Zayn spoke up to the room, "You can all go home now, we have a big day tomorrow!" There were a few cheers and more congratulations thrown Louis' way. He gracefully accepted, while Zayn watched him closely. Once Louis and Zayn were the only ones left in the room, he finally spoke up. "Congratulations," He smiled and Louis felt tears prick his eyes.

This was it – after one year and eight months of solid work and investigating the Lords of London, Louis was finally going to make an arrest. He had poured his heart and soul into this case, and now they were going to make an arrest. It was one of the biggest moments of his career and he felt slightly overwhelmed. "Thank you," Louis accepted with as much energy as he could muster.

Zayn noticed his tiredness, pressing a button on the conference phone on the table. "Susan, can you please bring us two teas?" He asked and thanked her when she promised they would be there right away. "I know it's been a long day, Louis, but we have to go over a few details. This is your operation, I know how hard you've been working on it, so I want to go over the little details with you."

Louis nodded in acknowledgement, Susan bringing in two teas and placing them in front of the men. He took a long sip of his tea as Zayn shuffled some papers around. "How did you find out where they are?"

"Something you had written down months ago caught Jenson's eye," Zayn started, showing the hastily scribbled address on a random post it note, one that had been taken off the map in Louis' office. "He heard some people talking about it, some massive party because 'the boys' had pulled off another big heist."

"Where did he hear this?" Louis asked, dumfounded.

"Starbucks. That's their problem, they'd gotten too comfortable," Zayn tapped his fingers against the table, a disapproving set to his lips. "Obviously you want to be part of the team that arrests them," Zayn states and Louis starts nodding immediately.

"Of course, I want to be front and centre," Louis said enthusiastically and Zayn broke his serious demeanour for a second at Louis' excitement.

"Louis, if you're going to be at the arrest... you have to take time off," Zayn said, watching Louis closely to make sure he understood. "That's the deal – you need it, especially after all of the work you've done with this case."

"I have to be part of the arrest, though," Louis said, and that's when it sunk in. Zayn was actually making him go on holidays; he had no choice at this point, he knew Zayn wouldn't back down, not after this long.

Zayn looked apologetic as Louis sipped his tea, debating the idea. "I'm sorry, Louis, but it has to happen, this isn't a choice anymore. You can be front and centre at the arrest, but after that, you have to take a holiday – at least six weeks."

"What if something goes wrong?" Louis asked incredulously. It was such a big thing to ask of him. He makes the biggest break of his career so far, so he's sent home? It seemed unfair in his eyes, for Zayn to throw this at him so suddenly.

"We'll take care of it, Louis," Zayn's eyes were soft as he regarded Louis' torn expression. At thirty-two years of age, Zayn was not that much older than Louis, but he felt protective over him, an acute need to always make sure he was rested and healthy. The fact that Louis had been drinking before he came into the office worried Zayn greatly, and he didn't want it to become a habit, one that he couldn't shake; Zayn had seen it happen before, young detectives with so much potential getting sucked into their work, turning to the drink to alleviate the stress and becoming addicted, ruining themselves and the careers they longed for. "You need this, okay? After almost two years of solid work on this case, you need to take a break. We all think so."

"Nice to know everyone wants me gone," Louis spat, unable to feel anything but bitter.

"That's not how it is," Zayn assured him, a hand resting lightly on Louis' wrist, fingertips tracing small patterns. "They know how hard you've worked – we all know we wouldn't have solved this case without you," Zayn's voice was soft, and Louis wanted to curl into a ball and cry. "We're worried, Lou."

"Okay," Louis agreed mournfully, unable to meet Zayn's eyes as Zayn squeezed his wrist sympathetically. "We should have all the normal people for the arrest tomorrow, make sure you include Harley in that, she was integral to our last arrest. We should do it in the afternoon to make sure everyone is briefed properly and we have time to prepare." Louis stood up, finally making eye contact with Zayn, resenting that his eyes were red with unshed tears.

"Louis," Zayn tried, standing up and reaching out for him, but Louis stood back, shaking his head.

"I guess if there's nothing else, I'll be leaving. Thank you, Mr Malik." Louis walked out of the room, willing himself not to cry. He and Zayn's relationship had always been different, being colleagues and friends. Everyone knew that Zayn had a soft spot for Louis and often went out of the team's way to make Louis happy, but there had to be a line drawn. Louis would not let his boss see him cry, nor will he let his boss console him. It was pushing so many boundaries that Louis wasn't sure he was comfortable with, and it wasn't right.

Calling a taxi, he lit up a cigarette as he waited, debating what he would do now. He was being forced into holidays, but he had nowhere to go, no one to go with. It would be an entire six weeks lonely and just sad – he ought to go home, visit his family, but he hadn't been back in years; they probably don't even know what he looks like anymore.

Getting into the cab, Louis debated giving the address to the pub – he didn't want to be that man at such a young age, although he was already halfway there. He gave the address to his flat instead, sighing as he handed the cabbie cash, saying a sorrowful "hi" to the doorman. The elevator ride up to Louis' apartment was long, as he was on one of the top floors. The building wasn't that large, only fifteen stories tall, but it was grand, located in the centre of London. Louis had a rather magnificent view of the Thames, one that he would photograph regularly from the small balcony, or admire as he had a smoke.

Walking into his home, the familiar smell of cinnamon incense welcomed him and Louis felt content for the first time in hours. Although it can get lonely, Louis loved his apartment. Most of his walls were filled with photos, ones Louis had taken himself, whether it was of him with friends, family, or various views from his travels, every photograph held a memory that was important to him. When he was in his early twenties, Louis was full of life; he visited his family at least once a month, he had a large group of friends, a boyfriend, and went out almost every weekend. He was happy, he was fun, he was youthful.

It all changed once he was promoted – the visits became less frequent, the friends became fewer as they realised he couldn't party with them all the time and eventually his boyfriend had given up; Louis became a lost cause. He became obsessed with his work, taking it home with him and constantly denying invitations to nights out because he was always so close to cracking a key in a case that could change everything; that always became the excuse. He let his work consume him, and now here he was. He felt like he was in his forties rather than his twenties, he had a select few friends, most of which he barely talked to, and his mother had had twins and he didn't even know for five months.

Sighing as he stripped in preparation for bed, Louis looked in the mirror. Where there used to be laughter lines around his eyes, there were stress lines between his brows; his mouth was constantly in a straight line, stern rather than the happy, smily man he used to be. He had changed drastically over the few years he had been a proper detective and, as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, it was not a change for the better. Maybe this holiday would be a good thing for him, he could find himself, rekindle old friendships and maybe even find a boyfriend – he would come back to work with a fresh mindset and not dedicate his entire lives to criminals that wouldn't give him the time of day; he could spend more time with the people that loved him, and the people he loved. He could change, for the better this time.

With a renewed sense of hope, Louis turned away from the mirror, pulling his duvet back and settling into bed, ready for tomorrow, for the start of a new Louis Tomlinson.

♢

Louis was fucked. Every positive thought he had the night before flew out the window as he eyed the gun pointed at him. It wasn't the first time someone had ever pointed a gun at him and threatened to blow his brains out, and it wouldn't be the last, but it was just the first time they had done it with such pure, unfiltered rage in their eyes. Liam Payne stood in front of him, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath, his face so red it looked like it hurt, but his hands were steady as he pointed the gun at Louis' chest.

Louis' men were in the room, of course, with their guns trained on Liam, but Liam would not take his eyes off Louis. It wasn't a secret that Louis Tomlinson was the man that was determined to bring down the Lords of London, and Liam must have kept up with the new developments. No one was making a move, eyes trained on Liam and Louis as they had their own mini show down. Louis' hair was curling at the nape of his neck with sweat, his left foot was twitching and his head felt slightly heavy, a headache forming, but he refused to break eye contact with Liam.

Walking into the office that morning, Louis felt on cloud nine, finally happy about the holidays being forced on him. He accepted Zayn's apology without question and gave a very surprised Susan a kiss on the cheek when she handed him a cup of tea. He put on his bulletproof vest with extra gusto, leaving his blazer off and rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. He hummed as he sipped his tea, looking over files and discussing the final details of the arrest with the team that was going with him. He felt amazing, he felt weightless, he felt invigorated - excited not only for the arrest, but what he would do with his six weeks of freedom.

Now that he was standing in front of Liam, guns pointed to each other as if they were cowboys in a duel, that optimism was starting to fade. "Liam," he dared to speak, which only seemed to make the criminal more angry. "This will only make things worse, you don't have to do this."

"Shut the fuck up," Liam hissed. "What's wrong with you? Why have you spent so long looking for us?" His brow was furrowed as his eyes stared into Louis', Louis feeling slightly uncomfortable under the steely gaze.

"Be-because you're criminals," Louis spluttered, desperately trying not to show any weakness in front of Liam, who had a dangerous glint in his eye. "You steal off of people, you take the things that they've earned for themselves and take it for yourself."

"We take off rich businessmen and women who rip off poor, unsuspecting people," Liam said calmly, looking a lot less angry and a lot more smug. Louis hated it, hated feeling smaller than someone else, especially a low life like Liam Payne.

"Yes, I'm sure the general public were thrilled to have their money taken off them when you robbed multiple banks, I'm sure unsuspecting people were thrilled when you stole their cars and I'm one hundred percent certain galleries love when you steal their art." Louis rolled his eyes and Liam huffed, Louis' partners eyeing the exchange warily.

"I barely did any of that stuff," Liam scoffed. "I don't know how you've made in this far, Louis Tomlinson. For someone who's spoken so highly off, you're not awfully intimidating."

"Neither are you, actually," Louis took a small step forward, Liam's eyes focused on his face, watching for his reaction, so he didn't notice. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised though, I mean you don't do much do you? How does it feel taking credit for the heists someone else pulls off, always knowing that you're the lesser man in the duo?" Liam's neck flushed red, matching his crimson cheeks, in anger, his hands tightening on the gun, his finger twitching on the trigger.

Louis knew men like Liam, men who rode on their large egos and even larger muscles - they enjoyed bragging about their triumphs, even when they weren't technically theirs to brag about. Question their masculinity, bruise their ego, and they turn very defensive and often act brashly. That's why, when Liam's finger tightened on the trigger, ready to shoot, Louis wasn't surprised. He lunged forward, grabbing Liam's wrist and yanking as he pulled the trigger, the gunshot resonating through Louis' brain, the buzzing in his ears like his own personal orchestra.

"You do not have to say anything," Louis grunted, yanking Liam's wrist, making him drop his gun, "but it may harm your defence," Louis kicked Liam's gun away, pocketing his own, grabbing the handcuffs, "if you do not mention when questioned-" he grunted again as Liam struggled, elbowing him in the stomach, "-stop it you little shit - something which you later rely on in court." Louis took a deep breath as he secured Liam's wrists behind his back, Liam huffing in annoyance.

"I'm not saying shit to you," Liam spat, still struggling against Louis' hold as they pushed out the front door, two agents following them and another two staying behind to look for further evidence - to their crimes, and to Harry Styles' whereabouts.

"I wasn't finished," Louis grumbled, yanking on Liam's arms in frustration, making the other man hiss in pain. "Anything you do say may be given in evidence." Louis finally finished and Liam scoffed at his insistence.

"Louis Tomlinson is a stuck up asshole," Liam said through gritted teeth. Louis just scoffed. He lead him out to the car, Liam struggling against his hold the whole way - Louis had never been elbowed or kicked more in his life, not when he babysat his younger sisters when he was younger, not when he used to play football on the weekends, never.

Liam twisted around, kicking at Louis, before he suddenly stilled. "You fucking prick!" He yelled out, struggling more than before, Louis frowning at the sudden outburst. He looked over at the direction Liam did, but couldn't see anything. Liam screamed in frustration, before yelling, "What did you do?!"

"Shut up," Louis hissed, tugging on Liam's handcuffed wrists, the latter wincing and kicking back. Louis stopped, tugging on Liam's hair slightly so he could reach his ear before whispering, "If you kick me one more fucking time," he tugged harder and Liam gulped slightly, "I will put you down as resisting arrest and assaulting an officer, and it will get so much worse for you."

"Suck my dick," Liam spat and Louis chuckled humourlessly, letting Liam go and opening the back door of the police car.

"You're not my type," Louis said before making Liam duck his head as he sat in the car, closing the door behind him. He leant against the drivers' side door, letting out a long breath.

"Tomlinson, should we wait for Harley and Jacobs or be on our way?" Agent Kolby asked him and Louis massaged his temples with his fingers; Liam's struggling had really tired him out and given him a headache.

"Wait, in case they have a run-in with Styles. After Payne's behaviour, we don't want to risk them being alone with Styles," Louis said and Kolby nodded.

"Yes, sir. Should I go check on them?" He asked. He was a young detective-in-training and he hung off Louis' every word - he was excited, bright, always bouncing with energy. He was the exact picture of Louis at twenty-two, heading into the business with an optimistic attitude, ready to take the world on, one criminal at a time.

"Yeah, be back in ten minutes." Louis sighed, running his hand down his face in exhaustion. When he looked over, Liam was glaring at him through the window of the car and Louis fought the urge to flip him off, stick his tongue out or something equally as ridiculous. He scraped his boot along the ground, his fingers twitching, his throat itching for a cigarette. Louis only smoked when he was stressed (which was 90% of the time, but it made his mum feel better when he said it was only when he was stressed), it helped calm his nerves and clear his head, which made things like this easier.

Relenting, he opened the front door of the car, leaning over to the middle console and grabbing his packet of smokes, closing the door and cutting off Liam's insults. He lit one, letting out a sigh of satisfaction as the nicotine took hold, making him feel more at ease instantly. He savoured every drag, knowing he was going to have to finish it before his colleagues came back downstairs.

"Can I have a drag?" Liam spoke and Louis jumped, almost dropping the smoke in the process. Liam's head was hanging out of the window slightly, nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. "You also need to invest in some air freshener for this car, it smells like booze and old people."

"How the fuck did you get that open?" Louis' bewilderment was apparent on his face, making Liam laugh smugly.

"My feet. How 'bout that?" He nudged his head towards the cigarette and Louis shook his head slowly.

"You know, Liam, if situations were different, we could have been friends," Louis stated and Liam scoffed at him, rolling his eyes.

"No we couldn't, you're a priss," Liam said and Louis raised his brows in a challenge, not breaking eye contact as he smoked the rest in only two drags, blowing the smoke in Liam's direction before dropping the butt to the ground and extinguishing it under his foot.

"Close the fucking window," Louis said calmly, "and you can use your feet since you were such a smart ass about it before." Liam narrowed his eyes in annoyance, but Louis turned around and ignored his frustrated grunts and the insults he was muttering under his breath. Louis let out a silent breath of relief as his colleagues finally returned, checking to make sure Liam's window was closed. It was, Liam sitting back against the seat with a pout on his face - Louis bets if he could have his arms crossed over his chest, he would.

"There was no sign of Styles," Harley spoke up and Louis nodded with a frown. "There were a lot of stolen items in the property, along with a lot of files which, from the few we looked at, had a lot of confidential information about a lot of people."

Louis hummed in thought, looking up at the apartment and down at Liam. "Okay, you stay here with Kolby, look through the files - I'll call more people in to help collect them, then bring them to the station as soon as you're done. Jacobs will come with me and Kolby will stay here - show him how to handle evidence properly." After a chorus of "yes sir"s, Louis got into the car and started it, needing a coffee and another smoke. He felt triumphant, having finally gotten even one of the Lords of London, but bone tired. Liam started humming obnoxiously loudly in the backseat and Louis wished he could punch him - he had never wanted to punch a person more.

Louis waited until Jacobs was in the car before he started the engine and left, not missing the sad look Liam had in the rearview mirror.

♢

Liam was situated in an interrogation room, scratching at his wrists around the handcuffs and shuffling his feet, occasionally looking over at the reflective glass to the side of the room. Louis and Zayn were on the other side of the glass, watching as Liam looked around the room in curiosity. Louis wondered if he was formulating a plan to escape - he wouldn't put it past Liam.

"He was violent during the arrest, so we thought it would be safer to have him in handcuffs for the interrogation," Louis told Zayn, who was watching Liam with a rapt fascination. "We're going to ask about Styles' whereabouts, and about the plans we found in their apartment. I'm hoping he's willing to talk, he didn't seem so during the arrest."

"What kind of violent?" Zayn asked and Louis hesitated. "Tomlinson," he prompted and Louis sighed, knowing Zayn meant business when he called him by his last name.

"He tried to shoot me," Louis said softly and Zayn's gaze snapped to Louis, his eyes wide in disbelief.

"Louis, what the fuck?"

"I had the situation under control, I grabbed the gun and aimed it somewhere else. Zayn, you know I can take care of myself," Louis said, his voice rising with his frustration. He did not need Zayn treating him like a rookie, like someone who needed to be protected. He had been in this business for five years and he knows what he is doing. Sure, Zayn's been doing it longer, but he should know how Louis is, and not underestimate his capabilities as a detective.

"What if you didn't, though? You need to be more careful, Lou," his voice was soft, caring and Louis shuddered. "Do you really think you should be the one doing this interrogation?"

"Do you really think anyone else should be doing it?" Louis fired back. "I've already told him to stop being a dick, he's restrained and I have a gun, Zayn. I'll be fine." He huffed, leaving the room, ignoring what Zayn had to say. He debated having a smoke before the interrogation but decided he didn't want to leave it for too long, or Zayn might get someone else to do it.

  
"Look who it is," Liam smirked as Louis walked into the room. "Are these really necessary?" He asked, holding his handcuffed wrists up, a playful glint in his eye.

"Yes, stop being weird," Louis sighed as he sat down, Liam leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table and his chin in the palms of his hands.

"Shouldn't you be making me a deal right now?" Liam asked bluntly and Louis' brows rose in surprise. "You give me time off my sentence if I talk, yeah? I'm willing to talk if a deal is made."

"Why do you think we'll be willing to cut you a deal?" Louis asked, genuinely curious, and Liam's smirk turned smug.

"I have information you need. I know where Styles could be hiding, I know where all of our safehouses are. I know the people he would go to, what he would be looking for. I know everything you need to. I'll expose our plans, just in case he decides to go through with them - he'll run out of money soon enough. There's only a certain amount at each safehouse, and once I tell you where they all are, that's it - he's screwed." Liam licked his lips, leaning back in his chair, his hands resting in his lap. Louis narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher Liam's motive - he had nothing to gain, it wasn't certain he would be able to get a deal.

"Why?" Louis asked, matching Liam's earlier pose, the cool metal of the table anchoring him, allowing him to focus on something other than the triumphant glint in Liam's eye. He knows he's going to get a deal, he knows that Styles is exactly what the force wants. Despite the fact he's going to be the one put behind bars, he knows that the officers are in the palm of his hand; he can play them any way he wants them and that in its own makes Liam dangerous.

"I want Styles to go down," Liam answered honestly. "I wasn't the only one in this, I shouldn't be the only one to be punished. The fact that he gets to run when I'm getting arrested is bullshit, and I want my revenge." Louis frowned at the mention of Styles running; no one knows about the arrest yet, unless someone had let it slip to the media, or a neighbour had called, seeing the arrest - so how could Styles be on the run?

"We haven't told anyone of your arrest yet," Louis said, confused and Liam's face split into a grin, chuckling lightly at Louis' expense.

"Oh, he was there. Right around the corner, watching me struggle. He knew and he ran." Liam looked utterly evil as he took in Louis' shocked expression, laughing at the defeat in his eyes. "He was twenty meters away, Tomlinson. Sucks, doesn't it?" Louis was going to punch him, he was going to lunge across the table and fucking attack.

"You didn't think to tell us?" Louis asked through gritted teeth.

"Didn't think you'd care," Liam shrugged nonchalantly and Louis knew it was obvious how much it affected him, but he didn't care. Liam was being a little prick, rubbing it in Louis' face and Louis wanted to throw him away for life. "How about that deal?"

"How about you rot in prison for the rest of your life?" Louis offered sweetly, a condescending smile on his face. It dropped as soon as Liam spoke.

"I think you should talk to Niall," Louis felt like the breath had been knocked out of him at the mention of his friend, his heart racing and his palms sweating.

  
"Excuse me?"

"You know, five foot eight, blonde hair that looks better when it's brown but he never listens, ridiculously Irish... ring any bells?" Liam looked like a kid in a candy shop and Louis felt like he was going to be sick.

"Tomlinson," Zayn's gruff voice suddenly rang through the room and Louis looked up, dazed. "Here, now." Louis looked back to Liam, who twitched his fingers in a mock wave, before moving out to the hall where Zayn was, closing the interrogation room door behind him. "What the fuck was that? You look like you're going to pass out."

"He just... he's very manipulative," Louis muttered, shaking his head. "I'm okay, Zayn, I can do this. Just let me have a smoke and a coffee and I promise I'll be fine."

Zayn debated, Louis pouting slightly, and Zayn sighed in defeat. "Fine. You have five minutes for a smoke and coffee, then you're back in. If whatever the fuck just happened in there happens again, you're out. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Louis saluted with a small smile, making his way to the small kitchen, waiting until Zayn was out of sight to let his shoulders slump. Liam fucking Payne had gotten to him in the worst way possible - not only did he know exactly what Louis wanted, what he needed, he mentioned Niall. What the fuck is that? Louis couldn't help his thoughts run wild as he prepared his coffee, taking it out the back of the station with him so he could smoke, too.

Liam was pushing all of Louis' buttons expertly, knowing how to get a rise out of the detective, how to put him on edge, and it was working. Louis was jittery with nerves, dreading facing the criminal again, but he wasn't giving up this interrogation. Louis finished his smoke, crushing it under the sole of his shoe to dig his phone out of his suit pocket. It had been more than five minutes, but Zayn would not start interrogating Liam without him - he knew it meant too much to Louis and would never do anything to upset him like that.

He readied himself for the smugness on Liam's face, the knowledge that he had gotten a reaction out of Louis. The thing is, Louis hated bringing his personal life, or lack thereof, into his professional life - they were two totally different ends on the spectrum of Louis' life and the fact that Liam had bought Niall into this, one of the very few people he actually had in his life and talked to on a regular basis, had his skin crawling. This wasn't just about the case now, this has become personal. Liam was trying everything he could to get to Louis, and two could play that game - he successfully did it in Liam's apartment and he could do it again. No one played Louis Tomlinson and got away with it - absolutely nobody.

Underneath his bravado, he couldn't deny he was buzzing with nerves and his fingers itched to grab his mobile and call Niall, to make Niall tell him everything he knew about Liam Payne, how he knew Liam in the first place. He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind, striding towards the interrogation room with a purpose. 

"Alright, detective?" Liam asked, confirming Louis' suspicions as he smiled smugly.

"Dandy, Mr Payne," he replied with an eye roll, revelling in the smile slowly slipping off Liam's face.

"I see you didn't contact Mr Horan," Liam said and Louis bet if he could study his fingernails disinterestedly at the moment, he would be.

"No I didn't, Mr Payne, although I don't see how that is any of your concern." Louis sat across from Liam, his hands curled into fists so they didn't shake, or leave sweat marks on the stainless steel table.

"It is of both of our concerns, Mr Tomlinson," Liam looked up at him through his lashes, one half of his face twisted into a smirk. Louis had never described anyone as evil, nor had he ever felt the need to; but right then, with the way Liam was looking at Louis, he could swear "evil" was the only description that could be used. His eyes had a devilish gleam to them, watching Louis as if he was playing into Liam's game exactly the way he wanted to. Louis despised being used as a pawn in other people's games, despised being used by men like Liam Payne. "I'd suggest you take the call. I know you care dearly for your friend Niall, and I feel as if we could come to some sort of ... mutual agreement, much like you have with Mr Horan in the past."

Louis' stomach clenched at the words, his heart rate increasing rapidly as he looked at the glass separating him and Zayn. He couldn't afford being questioned about what Liam meant by that, not after such a long day, not after Liam had already rattled him to the point his foot was twitching with nerves. He ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair, schooling is features into resembling indifference. "My dealings with Mr Horan are none of your concern," he said calmly, his tone contrasting the way his throat felt closed off, struggling to string together a coherent thought. He's lucky he's had years at bullshitting his way through any situation thrown at him. But he had to call Niall - the look on Liam's face, the gleam in his eye ... it filled Louis with an uneasiness he knew wouldn't subside until he had talked to Niall, even if it was just to make sure he was okay.

Liam hummed, almost patronisingly, and Louis narrowed his eyes, clearing his throat. "Mr Payne, if you'll excuse me, I've left my files in my office." He felt dizzy, weak under Liam's knowing gaze.

"By all means, Detective, take your time," he smirked and Louis wanted to fucking rip his stupid, frat-boy hair out. He wiped his hands on his suit before pushing his chair back, looking over his shoulder one last time before leaving the room, making a bee-line straight towards his office, waving off the concerns of his colleagues. This was an important day, and it was not going to be ruined by Liam Payne's ... cockiness. There was no other way to describe Liam Payne but cocky, as if he knew he had Louis right where he wanted him, as if this was what he planned all along.

It couldn't be, and Louis knew he was being paranoid, but the way Liam looked at him, the casual manner in which he bought Niall into the mix. It made Louis uneasy, like Liam knew more than what he was letting on. Louis didn't like men like that - he was a man who was straight forward himself; he despised beating around the bush and wasting valuable time. Which was why he hated the fact that he was wasting his time calling Niall just because of an egotistical, manipulative asshole who knew a thing or two. A lot of people, especially in Niall's line of "business" knew Louis and he were friends, more so knew that Louis sometimes turned a blind eye when it came to his friends ... activities.

With slightly shaking hands, Louis scrolled through his contacts until he found Niall, pressing on his name and biting his thumb nail anxiously as the phone rang. He knew if Niall was with a client he didn't answer the phone, but he really needed him to now. He had no time to waste, wanting to shove Liam's ignorant head up his own ass and send him off to prison.

Niall finally picked up and Louis breathed out a sigh of relief. "Ni, why is Liam Payne asking me to call you?"

The more Niall talked, the more Louis felt defeated. He knew he would walk back into the interrogation room to the most smug, annoying Liam he would have the displeasure of talking to; he knew he would have to make a myriad of deals that he could've worked around in any other circumstance, just under the pretence of capturing Styles. The truth is, Louis could find Styles eventually and bring him down himself - he didn't need Liam's knowledge, his probably-false "facts" and leads. But, now he had to. He had to stretch out these deals as far as they possibly could go, for Liam's best interests, and he hated it.

For the first time in his life, Louis could say he one-hundred-percent, without a doubt, hated someone. He was never the type to feel very strongly, was never the one to profess undying love, and never hatred. Yet here he was, defeated under Liam's gaze as they offered him a deal, one that had Louis cringing, one that Liam accepted with glee. Liam knew it was generous, Louis knew it was generous, the whole fucking department knew it was generous, but Louis had no fucking choice because he was a good person. A good person who just happened to hate Liam Payne with his entire being, a good person who did a very fucking terrible thing in offering a man who did not deserve anything less than twenty-five to life a chance at parole after sixteen.

All for Harry fucking Styles.

 


	2. ii. reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis' back at work and we see how Harry's life is now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update !! I was going through a lot of personal things the past few months and I had my half yearly exams, also, so that took up a lot of my time. I'm now aiming to update at least once a month, not biweekly, that just wouldn't work with my current schedule, having to study for my final exams and stuff.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter :) x

_Louis_

_March, 2014_

 

Louis stepped out onto the small balcony of his apartment, smoke billowing out of his mouth as he sang along to the Queen song playing, the sound resonating throughout his flat. His dress shirt was unbuttoned, flowing behind him in the cool Spring breeze, his belt clasp undone, the leather hanging limply around his hips. He leant his elbows on the railing of the balcony, bending his back and cracking it with a satisfied sigh. He had been meaning to redeem the voucher for a masseur that Niall had put in as part of a "care package" at the end of last year as Louis finally went on holidays, but he never had the energy, nor the motivation.

 

Extinguishing the cigarette on the balcony railing, twisting it then flicking it off the edge, he watched as it made its slow descent to the street below. Louis felt the most relaxed he had in a long time, with his return back to work fast approaching. He had taken more time off than he had initially been offered, but his department accepted the request with grace, considering this was the first extended holiday Louis had asked for, for years.

 

He had finally visited his family, catching up on the years he'd missed, showering his sisters (and brother) with presents and affection, trying to squeeze in four years' worth into two weeks. He declined his mum's offer to stay longer, to stay for Christmas and his birthday, rather formulating a plan in his head - outlining his perfect holiday, mapping out where he would go, what he would do, and who he would go with, if anyone. It turned into him making a bucket list of sorts, items on the list which could be considered cliché (such as skydive and snorkel in the Great Barrier Reef) and others, which he had completed quite easily (such as actually finishing a game of Monopoly, which ended up with Niall and Patrick, one of his university friends, getting into a physical fight - they claimed it was friendly, but Louis believed Niall was truly angry at the fact that Patrick took all of his money).

 

He alternated his weeks, some weeks spending lazy days at home, others travelling and ticking things off of his ever-growing list. He made the most of the time he had, recovering from the exhaustion, stress and borderline emotional trauma he put himself through with the Lords of London case. Harry Styles and Liam Payne were the last things on his mind during his holidays - he thought of them little, focusing on himself and righting his wrongs, rather than other people's.

 

Regretfully, Louis' holidays were at an end. Having performed over half of the items on his ever-growing list, Louis felt a sense of achievement and pride, something which benefited him greatly in preparation for what he knew was going to be a long day ahead. Walking into work with a good attitude, a spring in his step, and an open mind isn't something he's done in a long time, but he's hoping with his refreshed mind set, he's well on his way to making it a daily occurrence (if not every second day, he's not greedy).

 

He admired the view from the balcony for a few minutes longer before heading back inside, the familiar smell of cinnamon enveloping him like a warm hug, one thing he missed about his home while he was away. He wasn't sure what it was about cinnamon that bought him such comfort, whether it was childhood memories or the warm undertones of the smell, but it gave him a sense of belonging, of _permanency_ , that he was yet to find anywhere else.

 

The idea of permanency had never sat well with Louis, especially when it came to other people, something he tried to overcome when he was younger in the most stupid of ways. He became someone he wasn't, desperate to prove to himself that things could be permanent, that they didn't have to change. In the end, he ended up proving the opposite, proving his fear - Louis Tomlinson was not a person who could truly grasp and embrace the concept of permanence. His work and his cinnamon incense became the only permanent things in his life, along with his love for photography - but even that had taken a back seat for a while, overshadowed by everything else deemed more important in his life.

 

Sighing, Louis straightened out his blazer, picking up his briefcase and looking at himself in the mirror. He looked alive, more than he had in years; a golden tan to his skin, his hair lighter,  face more open - he looked more relaxed and approachable and less like a bitter old man ... he actually had begun to look his age, rather than a man years older.

 

He was proud of himself, proud that he had put himself before his work for once, proud that his own wellbeing was at the front of his mind and was considered a priority, rather than the next case he had to work on, what leads were hot and worth pursuing and which were cold and useless. He knew that once he went back to work, eventually he would be swept up into that world again, where his work is everything and he put his heart and soul into whichever case he was working on - it was only a matter of time, but he would prolong that process as much as he could now that he's seen how drastic the change could be.

 

He called for a taxi as he grabbed an apple and a yogurt from his fridge, biting into the apple but putting the yoghurt and spoon in his briefcase. After much deliberation, he made tea and put it in a thermos, hurrying to lock his apartment up and take the stairs rather than the elevator so he didn't miss his taxi. He wasn't planning on drinking tonight, promised he wouldn't stop at the bar no matter what happened, but he didn't want to endure the unneeded stress of driving in London before his first morning back at work. He was attempting a "zen" vibe, taking deep breaths of the smog-filled air, which was not as effective as he would have liked. He would not let it put a damper on his mood, promising himself he would enjoy at least one day at work and not stress himself out. He would not go back to looking forty, would not allow himself to become the man he was before his holidays. He despised that man, despised everything he stood for - the Old Louis was dead to the New Louis, someone he was not looking at becoming again anytime soon.

 

The taxi arrived and Louis told the driver the address to the office, watching the city pass him in a sea of grey as they drove. He tapped his fingers nervously against his briefcase (black, because it was classier than brown, as Patrick told him when he received it as a graduation gift), whistling a meaningless tune as he watched raindrops beginning to collect on the window of the car. He hoped this wasn't a bad omen, a sign of what was to come. As much as Louis hated it, due to the irrationality of it, he was very superstitious - he believed in Karma, walking under ladders and black cats, the whole bit - and was especially cautious when it came to bad omens. It was a terrible thing to consider rain a bad omen in London, but Louis Tomlinson was, in everything but his professional life, impractical.

 

He thanked the taxi driver as they rolled to a stop in front of his office, handing the driver the correct amount of money and opening the door. He strode towards the building quickly, raindrops flicking off his waterproof coat, the heels of his shoes clicking with every step, a hint of decisiveness in the sound. Pushing through the revolving doors, he was hit with the smell of the lemon antiseptic cleaner that was used every day, the second most familiar smell in his life.

 

He sauntered across the marble floors, his head held high and his chest swelling with pride, ready to throw himself back into his work and prove to himself he was still one of the best detectives in London. He was greeted with enthusiastic smiled and waves, his colleagues basking in his presence as he set his briefcase on his desk, settling into his office chair and letting out a content sigh. He booted up his computer, the familiar whirring of the tower matching the buzzing excitement in his veins.

 

"Louis!" A familiar voiced spoke and Louis smiled up at Zayn as he approached – a coffee in his hands and a smile on his face. His hair was slicked back and his tie was already loosened and Louis had never been so happy to see him. "Welcome back," he placed the coffee on Louis' desk, tapping his fingers on the mahogany afterwards. "Can you come into my office after you've sorted your papers out?" He asked and Louis nodded, his fingers tightening around the ceramic cup as Zayn walked away.

 

He quickly sorted his files, arranging them from most to least important and moving them to the corner of his desk, lined up perfectly with the edge. He tried to seem nonchalant, wiping his face of any emotion as he fiddled around with other things on his desk and drank his coffee. His stomach was flipping with nerves, the coffee settling, hopefully drowning the butterflies that wouldn't stop tickling his insides. He knew Zayn asking him into his office probably wasn't a big deal, he had just come back from holidays... and yet, he couldn't dismiss the nagging feeling at the back of his mind, the alarms screaming at him that something was wrong.

 

Eyes burned his back as he walked towards Zayn's office, arms stiff, stuck to his side, his gait purposeful as he refused to look back at his colleagues. Fear – it's something Louis hadn't felt in a long time, not even when he had a gun pointed at him, not even when he realised that he had practically ruined his life for his work, but he was feeling it now; a small burning sensation at the pit of his stomach, a tiny spark that was ready to become an inferno at any moment. Fingers curled into a fist, three professional knocks and a nervous smile later, Louis was sitting across from Zayn, picking at the skin around his thumb nail and looking around the office.

 

Zayn cleared his throat, Louis' eyes flickering over to him as he straightened out a stack of papers. "How were your holidays?" He asked and leant his elbows on the desk, watching Louis intently. Zayn had always been an intense person, always one-hundred per cent invested in a conversation, making sure you knew he was engaged and listening. He was the best person to tell a story to, even if his intensity was slightly overwhelming at times.

 

"They were amazing," Louis smiled softly and Zayn returned the gesture, nodding slightly. "Spent some time with the family and travelled quite a bit, ticked some things off the bucket list."

 

"You had fun? You're relaxed?" Zayn asked, his tone mimicking that of a concerned parent. "You were so stressed, Louis, and I don't want that happening again. You don't need to push yourself so hard, you have nothing to prove – you're one of the best," he tapped his fingers against the desk top, a habit he seemed to have picked up recently, Louis noticed, and his brow rose in question.

 

"Oh, yes, I'm very relaxed – more than I have been in years," Louis chuckled lightly and Zayn nodded, leaning back in his chair, as if he was satisfied with Louis' answer. "It was great to see my family and have some time to myself."

 

"Pleasantries aside," Zayn cleared his throat, leaning back in the leather chair and regarding Louis with soft eyes. "You've obviously been following your cases closely," Louis nodded, "so you would have noticed that there hasn't been any advancements in the Styles case." Louis' stomach dropped, Zayn watching him closely, wary of his reaction. Louis shook his head slowly, even though it was a lie. Of course he noticed the case wasn't getting very far, there were less leads every week and the detectives were tired. Whatever Styles was doing, wherever he was - it had them stumped, defeated.

 

"Is it going to be a cold case?" Louis asked, keeping his voice even and his face stern.

 

"No, we decided it would be best if it wasn't," Zayn said and leant forward, his elbows on the desk and his chin resting in his hands, eyes boring into Louis. "Someone else will be taking the case - it's not a priority for us anymore."

 

He should've known, should have realised the case was going to shit when he'd heard about it less on the news and in the papers; he should've known it was dismal when the name "Harry Styles" disappeared. That doesn't stop the crushing feeling in his chest as the gravity of the situation settles on his shoulders, the utterly evil feeling of _failure_ hanging over him like a dark cloud, practically begging for him to let it take over. Two years to waste - sort of; the case isn't closed, he has to remind himself. The case is just being taken by someone else. But, it's no comfort - it's like he's lost his child in a custody battle; it was not a feeling Louis enjoyed.

 

"What do I do in the meantime? Can I not help on the case at all?" Louis asked, resisting the urge to bite his lip, rather digging his blunt nails into his thigh.

 

"You can help, but you're not our main detective for the case. Just, don't overwork yourself, okay? It was horrible seeing you how you were before," Zayn told him with the gusto of a concerned mother. Louis nodded dejectedly, wanting nothing more than to leave Zayn's office and scream.

 

"I'll try," he promised unenthusiastically. "I'm going to sort out my other cases now, if there's nothing else you'll like to say?" Zayn's eyes were concerned as they met Louis', but he nodded and didn't object as Louis pushed his chair back and stormed out of the room.

 

He ignored concerned glances and the comforting words his coworkers were throwing at him and headed out to the carpark, taking a deep breath and pacing as he ran his fingers through his hair. It wasn't a big deal, he told himself; you have other cases, your colleagues are capable of working on the case. His work is not going to be tossed away and disregarded, he's overreacting. Zayn could have waited until Louis had gotten back into the flow of work, but he wasn't going to complain to him about it. Maybe it's better the bandaid was ripped off now, before he became too invested in the case again.

 

Sighing, he slowly lowered himself to sit on the gutter, stretching his legs out and staring out at the street, watching the people as they walked past and making up stories for them, where they're going, who they're meeting and what they're doing. He didn't move until Zayn came out half an hour later, handing him a mug of coffee and telling him to get his ass back to work. He smiled again.

 

_Austin_

_June, 2014_

 

The city of London was quiet in the early morning, Austin's silk robe sliding off his shoulder slightly as a man wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing a rough kiss to his collarbone. Austin hummed in delight, grabbing onto the man's thigh, his lips vibrating against Austin's skin as he laughed.

 

"I'll see you next Saturday, yeah?" He kissed Austin's neck and he nodded, turning to capture the man's lips with his own.

 

"Of course," Austin giggled as the man slapped his ass lightly before letting himself out of the apartment. Austin loved his apartment - it was the penthouse, open plan living and one whole wall made up of windows, bathing everything in the soft glow of the morning. The floorboards beneath his bare feet were slightly warm, the white of the walls and stainless steel of the kitchen practically shining in the light.

 

A cup of tea warmed his fingers as he watched the sun rise fully, mentally going over his schedule. He had a morning shoot with YSL and a pap walk with some lesser known models to boost their celebrity, but other than that, it was a relaxed Sunday. He wasn't worried about the lack of work like he was when he first started his career. Despite the fact that he had only been modelling for a little over a year, Austin shot to fame quickly and epically. His smile had won over the media and many fans, his big, honest eyes and overall cherub-like appearance had sealed the deal. Over the time he had been modelling, his jaw had sharpened and his cheekbones had become as defined as his body was toned. Once he had grown and his looks had matured, that was it - everyone needed Austin Baudelaire as part of their campaign.

 

He had ended up with Yves Saint Laurent after an extensive fan campaign and they had offered him a position - of course, he had taken it straight away. So far, his career was booming, never a shortage of campaigns or shoots for him to do. He was never short of cash, something that was his worst nightmare a year ago. Police activity had died down over the past few months, because Harry Styles could not be found - Harry Styles, with his slightly chubby cheeks, curly hair tucked under a beanie and acne covering his face didn't exist anymore; but that's who they were looking for. Austin had been unbelievably lucky to have not been caught, to have not been recognised by anyone outside of his modelling career. He was hiding in plain sight and it was genius.

 

Tearing his eyes away from the city below, he placed the empty mug on the kitchen counter, shuffling around the grand kitchen aimlessly, just looking for a way to pass the time. Austin was always doing that, keeping himself on his toes, constantly on the move - it was what he was used to. Working with Liam, then being on the run and the hectic first few months of his modelling career had left him restless when he wasn't doing anything. He was constantly on the go, always finding something to fill up the spare hours of his day, even if it was just settling down and watching a movie with his dog. Every second had to be used to the fullest, because if there was one thing Austin hated to do, it was waste time.

 

Walking back into his bedroom, he made his way into his walk-in wardrobe, flicking through shirts and pants hanging up, all colour co-ordinated, all sectioned into seasons and different outfits. He didn't always follow the way his wardrobe was set up, not when he was feeling especially adventurous and felt like making headlines for his outlandish choices. Today, he was feeling tame, choosing a dyed grey t-shirt, pairing it with black jeans and his signature boots – all from the recent YSL collection.

 

When he was out, knowing he would be papped, he tried to showcase the collection as much as possible without being labelled a sell-out.

 

Today was an important day, as they were readying themselves to shoot the campaign for the 2015 line; the main models in the campaign – such as Austin himself and Jon Cooper, who they liked together as their features were similar, yet still different enough to complement each other – coming in to test ideas and input their own. Austin was surprised when he first began, at how much the models could actually input – it wasn't like they were making major decisions in design-making processes, but with little things (although, would you call the campaign video for YSL little? Not really.) they were turned to as much as the next person.

 

Fluffing up his hair, Austin looked in the mirror one last time before heading off to work.

 

♢

 

Walking back into the lobby of his apartment block, satisfyingly full from the lunch he just had, the last thing Austin expected to see was Niall lounging on one of the armchairs. It wasn't _seeing_ Niall - they had kept in contact over the years and were actually good friends - it was seeing Niall in his apartment; usually when they hang out, it's at Niall's apartment or somewhere public. Niall always said he didn't want to accidentally lead someone to Austin's place if he was being followed, because it would all come together way too quickly if a detective linked them.

 

"Alright?" Niall stood up, Austin nodding and pulling him in for a hug. "This is nicer than I remember," Niall gestured around the apartment lobby as Austin led him to the elevators.

 

"Yeah, they renovated it a couple of months ago," Austin told him, pressing the button for the top floor. "What brings you here today?" Austin realised he sounded like he was in a business meeting, but he couldn't help but feel like it was something of the sort - Niall's demeanour was serious and he _never_ came to Austin's apartment. "Or should we wait until we're inside?"

 

"I think wait until we're inside," Niall replied and Austin nodded, nerves twisting his gut and making the palms of his hands sweat slightly. Niall wasn't even an intimidating guy, but he had his serious, business face on - and _that_ was intimidating to Austin. He had paid off all his debts months ago, plus extra, so he didn't understand what could constitute a serious visit. Throughout the past few years of his life, Austin had always assumed the worst when it came to any situation - it was hard not to when you were still technically on the run - he had the risk of being recognised every single day; all it took was one person who recognised him as Harry Styles and not Austin Baudelaire and he was done for.

 

Austin almost didn't want to step out of the lift when it arrived at his floor, but Niall was watching him expectantly, blue eyes blazing in the most unnerving way. They stepped out into the hallway, which only held two doors, and unlocked his own, pushing it open and gesturing for Niall to go in front of him, closing and locking the door behind them. Niall let out a long whistle as he looked around the room, startling slightly as Lawrence - the cutest Pomeranian in the world - ran into his legs, jumping up and scratching at his thighs in the hopes of getting a pat or belly scratch. Niall looked unsure as he scratched behind Lawrence's ears, looking up at Austin for guidance.

 

"He's harmless," Austin told him, dropping his keys on the table by the door and taking his boots off, wiggling his toes in relief from the restricting boots. Seeing that, Niall slid the Nikes off his feet before dropping to the floor so Lawrence could climb onto his lap.

 

"I like what you've done to the place," Niall looked around at the large, open-plan space with an approving grin. It was what you'd expect a rich model to have, but with a hint of the warmth that purely belonged to Austin, little quirks of his personality visible everywhere - from the obscure art on the walls to the stack of board games next to the TV stand. He had spent months trying to make the apartment his own when he first moved in, hating how everything seemed so clinical and depersonalised - it made him uncomfortable and lacked the homely feel he needed after so long not having a place to call his own.

 

"Thank you," Austin sat down on the large, white couch and watched as Niall continued to play with Lawrence. "Do you want a drink?"

 

"Nah, I had lunch and shit before I came," Niall pulled a face at Lawrence and he barked softly, licking Niall's cheek. That's the Niall that Austin knew. They were quiet for a few moments, Austin's eyes closed as he leant back into the soft cushions of the couch, letting out a sigh of relief. "You haven't been to see Liam." Niall spoke suddenly, Austin's relaxed demeanour slipping, because it wasn't a question, it was an accusation. He sat up properly, eyes opened as he took in Niall's expression - he didn't look accusatory, or annoyed, he just looked ... curious.

 

It was almost comical how Austin froze, his muscles tense and back stiff as Niall continued to play with Lawrence happily. Austin's back was straight, his feet flat on the floor and his hands gripping his knees. His heart rate picked up in his chest, the pounding audible as he tried to school his features into cool indifference. It wasn't working for him; despite being able to pull any face imaginable while modelling, despite perfecting sexy indifference for the job, Austin had always had a shit poker face.

 

"Don't worry, I'm not going to attack you," Niall laughed softly, noticing his stiff posture and most likely constipated look on his face. "He misses you, you know. He hates how everything went down, but he really wants to see you."

 

"He does?" Austin felt relieved, sagging back into the couch and letting out a sigh. There had always been nagging guilt in the back of his mind, telling him he needs to see Liam, he needs to settle whatever happened between them and come to a mutual understanding and truce - but, next to that, was always fear; fear that Liam hated him, that as soon as he saw Austin he would raise the alarm and Austin would get arrested. He was sure Liam would want some sort of revenge and he was surprised it hadn't happened yet.

 

"Yeah, of course he does. I know you've missed him, too." Niall said softly and he was right, of course. Austin had missed Liam like crazy, always wanting to share everything with his best friend, before realising he couldn't - it was one of the worst feelings in the world, a chest-crushing realisation that it Austin's fault he was in there alone, it was Austin's own fault he couldn't share things with his best friend anymore. Liam would love how he lived now, and Austin would share all of it with him, is determined to when Liam is finally released from prison. Austin had never been this long without Liam, had never been this long without a best friend; he had made friends in the industry, close friends, but none compared to Liam and what they shared - none made him feel like he belonged, none of them were raw and true like his friendship with Liam was.

 

"I have," Austin admitted in a whisper, pulling at the edge of his t-shirt in a weak attempt to distract himself from the guilty thoughts swimming around in his head. "Does he know about... me?"

 

"Of course," Niall said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world - he supposed it is pretty obvious, Niall tells Liam everything, and Liam would have had to see Austin somewhere by now. "He's proud of you, you know. I always show him your shoots and he absolutely dies, Harry, you have no idea." Austin jumped at the use of his real name, his eyes watering slightly as Niall smiled at him, returning a small smile of his own. It had been so long since anyone had called him by his real name and it was refreshing, almost. It felt so personal when it was used, like it was something that was supposed to be kept a secret, and Austin felt exposed when it was used. Though, he would never tell Niall not to call him Harry - he misses it too much.

 

"Yeah?" Austin sniffled, wiping under his eyes as Niall smiled at him, proud. He truly loved Niall for what he did for him, and loved him for sticking around afterwards; Austin would have been lost without Niall's guidance, without his friendly face in the sea of stern words and serious frowns. He was Austin's own, personal cheer squad and Austin was forever grateful.

 

"Yeah, he boasts about it to all the guys, how it's his best friend going around the world, getting paid to be pretty." Niall smiled as Austin laughed, a wet, loud, startled laugh that came from deep in his stomach, a few tears escaping and his nose running.

 

"Trust Liam," Austin shook his head, unable to wipe the grin off his face, because he could imagine it clearly - only Liam could get away with saying stuff like that. "He really wants to see me?"

 

"Of course," Niall scoffed, as if it was obvious. "Please go next week, but not Wednesday - that's my day. Let me know when you're going to go, yeah? I'll call him and let him know." Niall was still playing with Lawrence, his fingers buried deep in the puppy's fur, massaging his skin lightly. Lawrence was in his element, tongue hanging out and leg twitching ever so slightly when Niall would hit a ticklish part of his stomach - Niall was smiling down at him, looking just as happy as Lawrence, if not more.

 

"Okay," Austin let out a deep breath, rubbing over his eyes as he yawned. "I promise." His day was catching up to him, waking up early and the busy morning he had, plus the draining lunch with friends that cared more about getting the right pap shots than catching up.

 

"Good," Niall's face was a mask of satisfaction, scratching Lawrence's tummy one last time before standing up and wiping his hands on his jeans. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, yeah? Have a nap, you look exhausted."

 

Austin's eyes were already closed, humming in response. "Yeah, love you, man."

 

Niall smiled, shaking his head fondly. "Love you, too, bro."


	3. iii. visitations

Austin

January, 2015

Austin was intimidated by the man standing in front of him. Not because he was tall - he was several inches shorter than Austin - or that he was muscular - Austin had fought men bigger than the man in his life - but because his eyes, as dark as his uniform, were piercing into Austin’s, gaze travelling down his face, over his chest and down his exposed arms while his hand “casually” rested on the gun tucked into his belt. Austin was jittery, a slight sheen of sweat shining on his forehead, which was a look that was not suited to a place like this - especially for a man like him.

The jail was cold, annoyingly so, as Austin shivered slightly, even underneath his coat. A coat which hands were spreading under, pressing into his hips, thighs and ankles, looking for prohibited items. He and the guard made uncomfortable eye contact more than once, before Austin learnt his lesson and looked towards the dull beige walls. The prison was overall dull, he realised as he was escorted to the visitor’s area. The walls were all the same beige colour, if they had bothered to paint over the splotchy gray of the concrete wall; the sunlight that filtered through the barred windows was weak, as if the cleaners didn’t bother dusting the windows - if there even were cleaners.

They finally reached the room, the guard gesturing for Austin to sit down. “He’ll be here soon,” he said gruffly and Austin nodded before the guard left, closing the door behind him. He was a terrifying man. Looking around, Austin made his way to a metal table towards the side of the room, closest to windows that were, surprisingly, clean. They looked onto a large field, a forest in the distance. It was a nice view, one the prisoners probably didn’t get to see often. He tapped his fingers against the table top nervously as it passed the five minute waiting mark. The rest of the room was big, open, the sun lighting it in a way that almost seemed inviting. These walls were a pale green, with one section painted to resemble a jungle, Austin guessed it was a kid’s section, with its collection of beanbags and Lego - he would definitely have preferred to be over there. There was also a small kitchen - which held only a sink, microwave and a selection of coffee, tea and sugar, along with one of those hot water machines that always seemed to burn you.

It hit the ten minute mark and Austin was becoming impatient. Yes, he did make Liam wait a few months (if six can be considered a “few”) to visit after he told Niall he would, but it’s not like he meant to. He was genuinely excited to visit Liam after so long, but, like with any nerve-wracking situation, Austin started to overthink -what if he doesn’t want me there? What if he hates me? What if the roles were reversed? Because as much as Austin loves Liam, he doesn't think he would ever be able to forgive Liam if he did what Austin did to him - so why would Liam be okay with it, and be happy to see him? Austin and Liam were so similar in the way they thought about the world it was genuinely scary at times, so why would this situation be any different? Despite Niall’s reassurances, Austin was still so sure Liam hated him and wanted nothing to do with his old friend.

Leaving Liam behind was the worst thing Austin had ever done in his life, and it was his biggest regret. If there was any singular event in Austin’s life that would send him to Hell, that would be it. He knows he can't change it, can't take back the pain and suffering Liam would have went through, is probably still going through, but he would take it back in a heartbeat - if there were any way he could go back to that day, he would, and he would step forward and go down with Liam. Because that's what best friends are supposed to do, and Austin failed his best friend.

He smiled nervously as he saw Liam approach, his skin paler than usual, especially against the dark green of the jumpsuit he was wearing. His hair was shorter and his beard was thick on the line of his jaw; the exact opposite of clean-shaven, long-haired Austin. Austin stood up, holding his arms out for a hug as he saw Liam do the same, his smile turning from nervous to joyous as he felt Liam in his arms for the first time in years. His arms went around Liam’s waist as Liam’s slid around his neck, pulling him close and smiling against Austin’s shoulder.

Liam pulled back first, tugging on Austin’s hair with a sad smile. “You’ve changed so much,” he dropped his hand to Austin’s arm, pinching the fabric of the shirt with a frown. He let go of the shirt, sitting down and Austin followed suit, spreading his hands out on the table. “I guess you had to,” he shook his head with a small smile. “You look amazing.” He was overwhelmed with how much Harry - Austin, Liam scolded himself - had actually changed. It wasn’t just his style, or his hair; it was the way he carried himself, how he made eye contact with everyone rather than cowering away, how he sat up straight instead of hunched over and how mature he seemed.

“You do, too, considering.” Austin immediately grimaced at his words. Considering I left you to fend for yourself in prison, to spend fifteen years of your life alone. Austin cleared his throat, fighting the urge to look down at his hands, rather than Liam’s face, terrified at what his reaction would be.

But Liam beamed. “Thanks! I’ve been working out a lot more and I’ve stopped eating meat because the food here is questionable,” he smiled, dropping his hands from the table to rub along his thighs as his smile slowly slipped from his face. “Why haven’t you visited me before this?” His voice was so small, sad, but there was not a hint of accusation or anger. It wasn’t the Liam that HArry once knew, it was a new Liam that Austin gets to know; he had changed so much since he had been in jail, and it seemed like it was for the better.

Austin sat in silence, shaping the words in his head, testing what left the sweetest taste on his tongue. He didn’t want to ruin their first interaction in years, didn’t want to have Liam angry at him or despise him, like Liam did in the beginning. “You were my best friend for years, Li,” he started, frowning and taking in a deep breath as he tried to figure out the right way to express his feelings, how to put his conflicting thoughts together in a way that would make sense to someone else, even though they don’t even make sense to himself. “You’re my best friend and I - I just left you there, left you with the police - I literally ran away, let you take the fall for everything, let you go through the trial, let you go to prison, all on your own. I was a coward and ran, while you were brave, you confessed to everything and you took the punishment you were given. My heart would have been broken if I had to do that alone - my heart was broken knowing you had to do that alone.” he shook his head, his voice shaking slightly and tears burning his eyes. “How could you want to see me after that? Why would you?”

“Because you had no choice,” Liam’s voice was comforting, but Austin wasn’t taking it.

“Yes, I did! I chose to keep running, I got in too deep. I chose to go to Niall and ask for him to create me a completely new identity. I chose to pursue that instead of turning myself in,” he huffed in frustration, scratching at the table. “You know who didn’t have a choice? You. You were ambushed in our home, you were arrested and there was no way you could’ve ever been considered innocent. That’s having no choice and I had a choice. I also had a choice to see you and apologise sooner, but I didn’t, because how could I possibly find the words to express how fucking sorry I am after two years?”

“Trust me, H, I’ve been waiting for this since the day I first got in here,” Liam rested a hand on Austin’s knee, ignoring his shiny eyes and trying to compose himself. Austin’s breath hitched at the nickname that he hadn’t heard in so long, resting his hand over Liam’s as his eyes stung, his bottom lip wobbling slightly. “I need my best mate, no matter what choices he’s made, because he’s still my best mate.” Liam’s smile was encouraging, bright on his pale face, but Austin shook his head.

“I can’t accept that, Liam - you have to be mad at me, curse me out, tell me how much of a cowardly bastard I am. Something,” Austin practically begged. Liam’s acceptance isn’t what he needed, not yet; he didn’t deserve it. Liam was supposed to still be angry at him for being a coward, he was supposed to have to earn Liam’s forgiveness in the form of hugs and Crunchies. His guilt was supposed to be there to remind him of the shitty things he had done, to slowly fall from his shoulders at every acceptance of his apologies; it wasn’t supposed to get a free pass. Liam hadn’t even gotten any revenge, hadn’t done anything with the anger he had towards Austin, but Austin needed that. “It’s not fair that I can do what I did without having to pay for it, Liam. I can’t fathom how hard this must have been, especially to do on your own, while I was schmoozing with supermodels and popstars.” He snorted in laughter as Liam perked up immediately.

“I wasn’t alone, though,” Liam shrugged, scratching at the beard that Niall continuously begged him to shave, despite Liam’s insistence it gave him more street cred with the other prisoners. “I had people, people who worked with me to make this whole thing easier. The guards aren’t that strict on me and most of the other inmates are nice and respectful towards me. My life isn’t that bad anymore, Har- Austin,” Liam corrected himself with a smile and Austin’s heart broke a little, digging his fingernails into his thigh. “If it makes you feel any better, I was mad at you in the beginning. I called you every name under the sun, I swore to myself I would seek revenge, often in violent ways, even though I knew I would never do those things to you. But, people get over things. I’ve changed for the better in here, H; I would never go back to the way things were before. Honestly, this has been good for me. When I get out, I’ll get a proper job and earn my money in a legitimate way so I can buy a house with Niall and we can raise a family.” The smile on Liam’s face matched the wide one on Austin’s, Austin leaning forward enthusiastically as Liam laughed.

“You’re planning to have a family? With Niall?”

“Of course. I’ll be forty when I get out, Niall will be thirty-eight, we won’t be too old to have children,” Liam rolled his eyes at the awed expression on Austin’s face. “I told you, I’ve changed, I’ve matured. Being in here has showed me that I don’t need to do that shit anymore. It was okay when we were teenagers and weren’t in relationships and weren’t really doing anything with our lives, but now I want that. I even have a job in here,” he added when Austin still hadn’t said anything.

“What is it?” Liam laughed at Austin’s enthusiasm, but Austin knows that it’s a big deal. He and Liam had never had a legitimate job in their lives before. It was always selling stolen goods, stealing things for a fee, or scamming people out of their money - that had always been their source of income. The last time Liam had made any money legitimately was when he was seven and his granddad paid him to mow the front lawn.

“In the library. I restock shelves and document who borrows what.” Now, Austin was making an exuberant amount of money for standing around and posing or walking down a runway and Liam was making money doing something he would enjoy, even if it wasn’t much. If that wasn’t enough, he was planning actual work for when he got out of prison. Austin couldn’t help but feel proud of them - they’re both finally doing things right, even if they are in the most fucked up ways possible.

Then again, they weren’t always the most normal of friends.

Louis  
January, 2014

Louis eyed the sad excuse of a guard up and down as he examined Louis’ badge to ensure it was legitimate. Louis was bored with the whole exercise, especially since he was already late. The guard finally nodded and handed Louis’ badge back, before leading him down the familiar corridor. Louis didn’t need the guard to direct him to the visitation room, he could find it in his sleep he had been here so often.

The room was pretty much the same, but they had painted over the pale yellow with an equally pale green; he doesn’t know which one he preferred, they both left a weird feeling in his stomach. He was already sitting at the table, tapping his fingers against the metal surface with the arms of his jumpsuit tied around his waist.

“Tomlinson,” he smiled as he saw Louis approach. He looked like the cat that got the cream and Louis didn’t trust it one bit.

“Payne,” Louis returned the gesture as he sat, zipping his jacket up higher towards his chin. “You look awfully chipper today.”

“It’s Wednesday. Chicken day, you know it's my favourite,” Liam smiled widely and Louis rolled his eyes at the ridiculous excitement Liam got over chicken day. As a man who had been undercover in prison, Louis could tell you that chicken day was catastrophic at best, and you were lucky if you didn’t get poisoned from undercooked chicken.

“Whatever floats your boat. What’s been going on in this castle of a home?” Louis placed his hand in a patch of sun that reflected off of the table, waiting for Liam’s answer.

“Can we get a snack first?” At Louis’ incredulous look, Liam continued, “It’s chicken day but a man needs some good pretzel nutrition. Maybe a chocolate bar, too. Ooh, and a Coke, I haven’t had Coke in a while.”

“You had Coke last month when I was here,” Louis rolled his eyes, but stood up anyway. Over the past two years, Louis and Liam had maintained a weird sort of friendship. Liam forgave Louis for arresting him, Louis stopped shitting on Liam’s bad life decisions, and they realised they had a lot in common. It had taken a lot of smuggled paraphernalia for Liam and stories from the inside for Louis, but they had gotten there. And, Louis will maintain for the rest of his life, once you became friends with Liam, you couldn’t resist the puppy-dog eyes. Louis doesn’t know how Niall ever says no to him. Although, if you ever asked him, Louis would deny he had a soft spot for Liam to the grave.

After several attempts from the sketchy vending machine to steal his money, he finally had the snacks that Liam asked for, plus some of his own. Liam had long stopped asking Louis to bring home-cooked things, even leftovers, after Louis threatened to shove a scalding hot lasagna down his throat. Unconventional friendship at its best.

“Okay,” Louis dropped the snacks on the table, huffing as he slumped in his seat. “What’s been going on? Has the dog made a reappearance?” Liam ripped open the pretzels and shoved a handful in his mouth straight away.

“Apparently, but Jenkins thinks it’s a chihuahua,” Liam rolled his eyes, small chunks of dry pretzel falling out of his mouth as he talked. Apparently table manners fly out the window in prison. “It gets less reliable every day.”

“But yet when you thought it was a dingo, it was really legitimate.” Liam opened his mouth to argue, but at Louis’ unimpressed look, he shut it. “We are not going to have this argument again, dingoes are native to Australia.”

“Fine, it was dingo-like,” Liam smiled, self-satisfied, a glint in his eye and Louis sighed. There was no point sometimes. “Other than that, nothing. It’s been quiet in the underworld recently,” he eyed the bar of chocolate, setting the pretzels to the side, as Louis muttered “underworld” under his breath with a shake of his head. “Good Ol’ Graymond is my cell mate again.”

“No, way!” Liam jumped, chocolatey dribble falling onto his white shirt. “That’s disgusting,” Louis scrunched his nose up as Liam shrugged, wiping his mouth. “How is the old bugger?”

“Crazy as always. Muttering to himself and whatnot. Ooh, but he has a new bear this time and it’s so much better than the last one.” Liam added, sipping his drink.

“Your life is so weird,” Louis shook his head with a small smile. “How’s everything else? All the deals still in place?” Louis asked as he stole a pretzel.

“Yeah. I’ve started to watch Teen Wolf with Terry, it’s pretty amazing so far. Stiles is my favourite, then again I’ve always had a soft spot for a man named Styles,” Liam’s grin grew as he continued, “and I think you do too.” He winked and Louis rolled his eyes.

“Cram it, Payne. I don’t have soft spot for frat boys who wear their hats backwards,” LOuis rolled his eyes and Liam snorted a laugh.

“He’s definitely not a frat boy now,” He muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Liam cleared his throat, running his fingers through his barely existent hair. “How is the case going?” Liam didn’t always ask about the case, found it awkward at times, but whenever he heard stories from Niall that people had spotted Harry or there was an advancement in the case, he liked to ask Louis just to be sure. There hadn’t been any word for a while, so this is the first opportunity Liam had really had to ask about it; because as good of friends as Liam and Louis are now, if Harry was truly in danger, Liam would always warn him first.

“I got kicked off it,” Louis sighed dramatically, “and the bastards haven’t even advanced anywhere and it’s been almost a year.”

“It is sort of a dead case,” Liam shrugged. “I mean, I’m already locked up and no one’s seen Harry for months.”

“That’s the thing!” Louis suddenly looked alive again, Liam jumping at his sudden outburst. “There have been sightings, but the idiots don’t follow them up. I mean, he’s been sighted in L.A., Paris, Sydney, Milan, London for fucks sake - our own town - but it’s never looked into. He’s obviously around though, and obviously still getting money, somehow.” Louis was frustrated with his team, had voiced his frustrations to Zayn, but was shot down every time he offered to get back on the case. Liam hummed in agreement, chewing slowly on a pretzel, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. He had that glint in his eye that made Louis’ stomach backflip. “Wh-what’s that look you have? Why so smug?”

  
“Eh, it’s nothing,” Liam bit his lip to contain his laughter.“It’s just that I had a visitor yesterday,” Liam grinned, his eyes bright as he looked at Louis through his lashes.

“So, how’s Niall then?” Louis grinned back, the distraction welcome, as Liam’s faltered for a split second before returning to his face.

“Niall is perfect, but that’s not who I’m talking about,” Liam waggled his eyebrows and Louis squinted his eyes in suspicion. He leant forward, his elbows resting on the table as he licked his lips. “I’m talking about Styles.”

Louis’ mouth dropped in shock, his body leaning towards Liam’s as a reflex, grabbing Liam’s wrist. “What did he tell you?” Liam laughed, yanking his arm out of Louis’ grip and sitting back, his legs crossed and a smug smile on his face. Louis decided he hated him again.

“Nothing. He just came to apologise, told me I looked great,” Liam flicked his barely-existent hair off his shoulder. “We had a good little chat.”

“I hate you. I hate him, too,” Louis sighed, slumping back in his seat.

“No,” Liam tsked. “You would definitely like him, Tomlinson. He’s very much your type, if a bit tall for you,” Louis glared as Liam laughed, slapping his thigh. Louis wanted to hit the smug smile off his face, but violence was frowned upon in prisons, detective or not.

“So he didn’t tell you anything?” Louis tried to keep the pleading lilt out of his voice but he couldn’t help it. If he had this lead, Zayn would have no choice but to let him back on the case. Liam shrugged. “You do realise withholding evidence - in this case Harry’s whereabouts - is a crime.”

“Oh, so it’s Harry now?” Liam licked his lips in satisfaction. Although he and Louis had become good friends, Liam still enjoyed working him up; it was one of his favourite things to do when Louis visited him, and now he had the perfect ammunition. “I don’t know Mr Styles’ whereabouts,” he waggled his eyebrows. “And you’re one to talk, Mr. Corrupted.”

“You’ve got me there,” Louis pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. “What did he look like?” Louis was asking purely for the sake of the case - he was not curious at all.

“Definitely not like a frat boy,” Liam winked and Louis scoffed, throwing a pretzel fragment at Liam. “I don’t know, he’s matured.”

“Thanks. Within two years of his life, Harry has matured. That helps me so much,” Louis rolled his eyes, for probably about the eightieth time that day.

“I’m just going to say he isn’t Harry anymore,” Liam said softly.

“Harry isn’t Harry anymore?” Louis repeated, overwhelmed by how much he wanted to tug at his hair in frustration, or potentially Liam’s.

“Payne!” A guard called and Liam shrugged with an apologetic smile as Louis rubbed his hands over his face.

“Sorry, Lou. See you next month?” Liam stood up, opening his arms for a hug that Louis begrudgingly returned.

“Of course. Tell Terry to lay off the angsty teen shows and get you hooked on something good. Maybe Orange Is The New Black, to teach you a thing or two.” Louis pulled back, grabbing Liam’s shoulder.

“Piss off,” Liam pushed him off with an embarrassed smile, before heading towards the guard that was still waiting. He turned around and began walking backwards. “Bring me some pasta next time, yeah? I could go with some chicken boscaiola.” he kissed his fingers before he threw his head back with a laugh.

“Harry isn’t Harry anymore.” Louis sighed, picking up the rubbish Liam left on the table and heading towards the exit.

Liam was still laughing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it's been 80 years but that's okay because I've been focusing on school and shit so my life's actually together. also I'm working on some new stuff that you might be able to see soon ;)

**Author's Note:**

> not every chapter will be as long as this one :(  
> I'm hoping for biweekly updates but don't keep me to that, it just depends what's going on at the time.  
> I hope you've enjoyed, comments and kudos are very appreciated x


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